


The Great Hunt

by meidran



Category: Forgotten Realms
Genre: Dark Elves, Driders, Drow, Gen, M/M, Underdark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6248575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meidran/pseuds/meidran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The city is preparing for the great hunt. House matrons compete for the greatest trophy, no matter the cost of a few lives. Rusilnal, head of the male fighters’ society, and his dear friend, Caphelzsa, the patron of the first house, are struggling to save as many fellow males as they can from the tyrannical matron mothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This story is halfway completed. I plan to post a chapter every ten days as I proofread through the finished chapters and progress into further chapters.  
> English is not my mother tongue. If you find that I make a mistake repetitively, please don’t hesitate to point that out. I look forward to improving my writing so I will be very grateful.

The slave’s throat became dry. And when it became dry he became unpleasant to listen to. He realized that. Several times he looked to Ornaryn but gained no attention. The tavern keeper cared more about the paved stones he walked upon. He began to shake, and his song became incoherent.

The sound of the whip cracked the air. A priestess exploded. “What did you just say?”

Leave him alone. He merely stumbled on the name of our manipulative queen. Caphelzsa thought.

The slave dropped to his knees. “Forgive me, mistress…”

She strode to him. Sanan stepped away from the table. His companions, important figures of merchant clans, eyed him. They knew what he was about to do. But there was no way they could be persuaded to join him. They lowered back their head and continued their scheme.

He caught the priestess from behind and grabbed her arm lightly. The lash fell upon him instead. Caphelzsa stood up and walked to the bar.

“How dare you, male?”

“It is not necessary. He’s pleased everyone here for an hour.” In the face of a mad priestess Sanan was calm.

“Care to give me some jade-honey?” It was excellent to treat sore throat.

“Of course, patron. Your throat feeling tired? How about your body? We have several talented and well-trained masseurs. And our essential oil is the best in the city.”

“Thanks. I just had one back in my house.” He smirked.

“Of course. Of course.” The tavern keeper laughed foolishly.

“I’ll have his tongue, and your right hand. That’s enough punishment.” The priestess raised her whip. Those snake heads danced hungrily toward the poor kneeling slave.

Sanan watched him. He could easily fight back this ignorant priestess, without being reprimanded later. He had good status, just not well-known, at least not known to this female. But it wasn’t a thing he liked to do now.

Especially when he is here. Caphelzsa thought. He has to if he’s not. Then why does he have to step in?

“Leave him alone, mistress…”

The priestess launched her attack. Sanan drew his sword. Two snake heads fell to the ground. Females in the tavern screamed in fury. They drew their weapons and charged at him. Among them were two high priestesses. Those merchants finally stepped back from their table and ran to them.

“Back on your feet and drink this.” He handed the glass to the singer.

He was still shaking heavily. He dared not to even look at him. If he did he would recognize him from his garb, and then he would know to stop shaking.

“Back on your feet.” Recently his patience grew thin quickly.

A snake head came at him. He turned so that it whipped across his face. It was a high priestess. In a second she bathed in glorious enjoyment. The next second fear and regret manifested on her face. The other females lowered their weapons in shock.

“What… what are you doing here, patron?” The high priestess trembled.

“To praise the singer here. I’m upset he was interrupted.” He dragged the slave, whose jaw opened in shock.

“I’m… I’m very sorry, patron. Please do not tell your matron mother…”

Caphelzsa wanted to roll his eyes. In their eyes he was a patron who was bored to death, who had nothing else to do than whining in front of his matron mother.

That’s what he had been pretending. And he had to continue to do so, for the others, for Rusilnal, where his heart belonged. He grinned and ignored her, while continuing helped the slave.

Sanan sheathed his sword and joined him. The singer finally regained his strength and stood up. Sanan took the glass from him and fed it to him. He walked back to his table. Those females followed him, murmuring apologies.

“I don’t enjoy company now. My matron mother wouldn’t allow it, either.”

In a second they all fled. This trick never failed. High priestess or not, the matron mother of the first house could flay any of them alive. And she had made it too apparent that she was too willing to flay them for him.

Sanan came and sat down at the opposite side of him. “You should talk to the priestess. And I grab the drink.”

“Where are the others?” He poured wine for himself.

“Lesaonar went into the massage room.” Sanan frowned. Even massage wasn’t up to his taste. “Bhintel and Narissorin can’t come. The rest I don’t know.”

“Will Rusilnal come?” Surprised, and probably a little angered, he asked relentlessly.

“He will surely come.” Sanan amended. Then he smiled wryly. “Your wounded face would hurt him. Are you sure you don’t want any of them heal you?”

“He will heal me.” He asserted angrily.

The singer was directed by Ornaryn to sing on a platform near them. Caphelzsa sighed and turned away.

“You confused them.” Sanan commented.

“Why don’t you go back to talk about business and don’t bother me until the others come?” He snorted.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lesaonar put a hand on his shoulder. He smelt perfectly. Oh… He so wanted a session now. He missed every stroke of Jivvin, his personal slave.

“The massage went well, I take it?” Sanan grumbled.

“Yes. You want one, Caphelzsa? Perhaps one could do you well, to put down your temper.”

“No. They aren’t going to please me. Jivvin is the best.” He turned his face away.

“Ha. Of course. Next time bring him to serve me.” He grinned widely. “And he should please Rusilnal as well. He was… burned with jealousy when you described how immensely each of his touch pleased you. I was worried that he would rush out to murder him.”

He laughed. “What can I do? In many ways he may be a genius but he’s an idiot when giving massage. And I love it as you do. I can’t live without it. Perhaps he should spare some time to learn it.”

“If he does, I will strangle you.” Sanan said a word by a word.

“Then he better not to let you know when he does.” Caphelzsa retorted.

The singer’s tone raised high. It was a marvelous sound. He couldn’t help but turn and praise him. He was looking at him most attentively, and blushed out of excitement.

“Do you want to take him? Don’t you have a singer already?” Lesaonar nudged him with his elbow. “But I don’t suppose he is expensive. Or the tavern keeper might just gift him to you if you ask.”

Sanan suddenly stood up and waved at the door. Ryltar was there. Upon seeing them he quickly came, and sat down beside Sanan.

“Are you well?” Sanan asked.

“No. I was bathed in ritual air, and it wasn’t as pleasing as scented oil.” He grunted.

“You can have one if you wish. I don’t suppose the others will come any time soon.” Lesaonar shrugged.

Ryltar supported his upper body with an arm and leaned forward. “Handmaidens want eight raw hearts from each of us. If we fail…”

“We will leave that until Rusilnal come.” Caphelzsa interrupted him.

He panted. He grabbed a glass of wine, drank it full, and wiped away sweat from his forehead, and face. “I worried about K’yorl. He’s not going to make it.”

“I know. If necessary I will get him eight raw hearts.” Caphelzsa grabbed the edge of the table tightly.

“But if that was found out…”

“Leave that.” Sanan urged.

He sighed and turned to beckon the nearest slave. He quickly came forward. “Need something, masters?”

“Give us some food and drinks, whatever are the freshest.” Ryltar placed several gold pieces on the table.

“Yes, master.” He took those coins and ran away.

Ryltar turned to him. “What happened to your face?” He reached out a hand.

“Don’t touch it.” Caphelzsa leaned back angrily.

He waved a hand and snorted.

“What the hell are you doing? How dare you take golds from the patron of the first house?” Ornaryn’s shout swept over the hall. Ryltar rolled his eyes.

The slave ran back, pushing those gold pieces to Ryltar most fearfully. Ryltar pointed at him. “Give them to him if you must. He is the patron.”

“You can keep them, if your master so desires.” Caphelzsa turned away.

“Now get our food and drinks.” Sanan took those gold pieces from him, and then suddenly slapped them hard on the table. Caphelzsa looked at the ceiling to ignore him.

“You can keep them. I’m sure you can earn some interests with them.” Lesaonar suggested.

Sanan took in a deep breath. He was about to explode again, but then his eyes flickered pure happiness. Caphelzsa knew what it meant. He jumped out of his chair and rushed toward the door.

Rusilnal was coming in. He was accompanied by Krondorl and Sabrar. He tossed himself on him and wrapped his arms around his neck.

Rusilnal smiled and caressed his hair. “You know. You are extremely desirable in the eyes of females and you are catching the most lustful eyes.”

“Let them watch. I care not.” With a swing he attached his body to him.

His laughter was so pleasant to listen to. He hugged his waist and led him to their table. The others followed while greeting each other.

He sat down. Caphelzsa sat beside him. He stared at an empty spot, where used to hanged a cage. In it Solaukin, his father was kept for amusement for decades.

“We could move to another table…” Ryltar suggested.

“No. It’s alright.” Rusilnal focused his attention. “Rarely the city organizes such a great hunt. It’s… competitive and many in our ranks are put in dire situations. And many who aren’t one of us do not deserve the coming fate. Name them now so we can arrange.”

Sabrar spoke first. “Istolil and Nym are put into suicide squads. They are going to assault the primary fort within the city to reduce their support to the main gate, and the whole city after we break in. Though perhaps merely humans will there be they are not going to survive it.”

“All temple guards are required to take eight raw hearts. If we failed we are to be transformed into driders. There’s no way K’yorl can get them. He is young, and inexperienced.” Ryltar cursed lowly.

“What kind of hearts? Elven? Human?” Rusilnal asked.

“Both count.” Ryltar replied hastily.

Rusilnal nodded.

“Dinhrae is forced into a competition with his brothers. Their matron mother will sacrifice the one with least trophies on the altar. He needs luck to defeat his powerful brothers.” Lesaonar leaned back and put his feet on the table. “Rusilnal, do you need a massage session?”

Rusilnal tried, but the corner of his mouth raised a little.

“But does any of Elkantar, Adinrysn, and Sharyrd deserve that? They are stern and iron-fisted, but they never act on cruelty.” Sanan’s tone was a little sharp.

“But hearts first.” Lesaonar shrugged.

Sanan drew in another deep breath. He was about to put in another remark but Rusilnal raised a hand to interrupt him. He sighed and leaned back.

“Two fighters under Istorvir’s command are House Abykur’s spies. The matron mother asked him to handle them in the cover of the hunt. He would hate to do that and asks if there’s recourse.” Caphelzsa leaned closer to Rusilnal. He hadn’t commented on his wounded face yet. It hurt him a little.

Rusilnal turned to him a little, and brushed his hair to soothe him.

“You can just talk to the matron. She knows Istorvir is your ear, one of us, doesn’t she?” Sabrar took a glass of wine.

He was a little irritated by him and his voice became cold. “I could if there’s nothing else I need to talk through the matron mother. But I don’t suppose so. And I can’t run out of my influence on…”

“I understand.” Rusilnal held his shoulder and turned to him. He was shocked. Perhaps the light wasn’t right. Caphelzsa thought. “Your face… What happened?”

“One of the high priestesses over there.” He crawled on him like a pet.

“Oh… Caphelzsa…”He held his waist to support him. He touched his wound. His touch healed better than any other. Caphelzsa smiled, finally contented. His soul quieted down by his heart. He lowered his head to pay homage to Rusilnal. He patted him. He pulled back from him and sat back onto his chair.

 

The interaction between Caphelzsa and Rusilnal was hardly something he could miss. Sanan sighed. He was not without sympathy. It was… difficult for him. No matter how much advantage he seemed to gain he was merely a sex toy. He had only one rule to follow but that rule was brutal. He had to be available when she wanted him.

“Phyxdor and his squad have to capture an elven maiden. It’s not supposed to be difficult but he wonders if that’s right.” Krondorl slowly spoke up.

Rusilnal frowned. A slave served him a stuffed trout. He forced a smile for him. The slave blushed.

“You must be Rusilnal. The head of the male fighters’ society. I was a fighter, and I could prove useful to you.”

Rusilnal’s face twisted with emotions. Sanan stood up and gestured the slave to follow him.

He obeyed, but several times looked back anxiously. “Commander… I’m sorry if I have offended you…”

“No.” Sanan led him to a corner and leaned back on a table. “What’s your name?”

“Quildax.” He lowered his head and whispered.

“I’m happy you made your wish known to us. But there is nothing we can do for you right now. I’m sorry. We are acknowledged and our head is allowed to have ten slaves. But it’s…” He halted. It’s not full. Rusilnal always kept a few spots for those who were in immediate danger. But this one surely couldn’t count in his eyes. “And he doesn’t have the right to lift slaves to another rank.”

“I… I haven’t been here for long. But I have been slave for centuries… How long I have to keep waiting?” His head was still lowered, and his shoulders trembled.

His heart ached. He put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll keep an eye for you. That’s all I can do for you. Really. Now get back to your work before Ornaryn questions.”

“Yes, commander.” He bowed and left.

He walked back to their table. Rusilnal was to stand up, but was pressed down by Caphelzsa. To release his anger he drew a dagger and played it in his hands instead.

“Let me make this clear. We pay for our livings with blood. And now there are elven and human blood await us. We will use this opportunity to advance. Like it or not. Those who are now struggling morally are not my concern. But I will not ask them more, although I expect better from them.”

“I understand. And I do not disagree. Heart.” Krondorl replied calmly.

Rusilnal nodded, and turned to him. “How is he? What’s his name?”

“Quildax. He’s new here but he’s been slave for centuries.” Sanan sat down.

“That Ornaryn… I’ll have his heart one day I swear it.” Rusilnal panted in fury.

That’s actually irrelevant. Quildax’s plight could hardly credit to Ornaryn. But none of them dared to point that out. They all were well aware of his history with Ornaryn. Caphelzsa caressed the back of his right hand to calm him.

“Kethan is assigned to guard a high priestess of his house and that high priestess is known for her liking for torturing and even murdering her guards.” Ryltar cracked his knuckles.

“The weapon master of the seventh house locked on Allynna, one of the elf generals. I’m worried he would get himself killed, along many soldiers of his house. Not a few of them are one of us.” Lesaonar whistled casually.

“Sanan, we are leaving.” Zyn, his elder brother, shouted at him across the hall. He raised his head to look to his direction.

Rusilnal dismissed him with a hand gesture. “Let them know I’ll require their aid and they shall be ready.”

“Yes. Heart.” He stood up and trotted to Zyn.

Zyn stopped at the door and folded his arms, grinning. He was a wizard with no insignificant power, power that could blind even matron mothers. His delicate robe showed his status, and runes on it emitted mystical energy that was difficult to bear for ordinary people.

“Rusilnal wants to let you know he will require your aid soon and you shall be ready.” He tried to keep his tone as cool as he could.

Zyn laughed. “And what does he have to pay this time? Is he out of his mind? Or he can’t remember simple matters? The last trade was too favorable to him and now he owes us.”

He stared at him but could find no word.

Zyn smiled and turned away to leave. “The great hunt will be great fun and I’m all ready. He shall be as well.”

He sighed heavily and returned to his seat. The singer he and Caphelzsa saved earlier on came, pushed a small object into his hands, and fled. It was a broken necklace. He lowered his gaze to the ground. He placed it into his pocket and sat down.

“Lesaonar shall have his mistress persuade handmaidens to accept any raw hearts from the temple guards, whether acquired by them directly or not. Then we will get K’yorl enough ones. If there are other temple guards that need them, we shall help as well.” Rusilnal prescribed.

“It won’t be easy. I’ll report to you as soon as possible if I fail.” Lesaonar was first time serious.

Rusilnal nodded. “I’ll talk to Matron Mother Saslure, to see if she can spare her sons.”

“Beslice has been a pain for too long. Using our influence to remove Kethan from the squad that will guard her only causes other misfortunes. We will kill her. Who’s up to the task?”

“I’ll do it.” Krondorl claimed it warmly.

“Thank you.” Rusilnal turned to Lesaonar again. “Do you know why Ranatlab locks on Allynna?”

“Not specifically. But I would guess it’s just to compete with other weapon masters of major houses and to display prowess before his subordinates. Xarann would like one to secure his position. But there are only three elf generals. Not all of them can have their prize.”

“There are some elven nobles. Two of them might be princesses and one might be a prince.” Sanan put in.

Rusilnal snorted with disdain. “Perhaps Xarann could collaborate with Ranatlab. Ah… He should be here. He must be occupied. Ryltar. Send my regards to him, and to Bhintel and Narissorin as well.”

“It will be done. Heart.” Ryltar bowed his head.

“About the suicide assault, I think that’s where we will use our influence with merchant clans.” Rusilnal exhaled slowly. “We will suffer heavy casualty from such. Matron mothers don’t care because they are always carried out by male fighters. But we do. I’ll purchase enough slaves to take their places.”

“But they are very expensive. The price soared even before the decision to proceed with the great hunt was made.” Sanan tried to put it mildly. But the fact was it was rigorous.

Rusilnal sighed. “Try to get a discount for me.”

“I will.” He has no other options, has he? Sanan thought. But their coffer was as shallow as a drop of spit. He’s going to be labored to death by his imprudent brother.

“That’s all for now. We will continue it anytime you require.” Rusilnal stood up. Sanan lowered his head until he left.


	2. Chapter Two

That’s the last of them. Istorvir observed, panting heavily. Ginbaste lowered her whip. From this point onward her weariness outgrew amusement and she knew that. She whispered a word, and the chains that bound his hands and feet broke up. He fell to the ground, still panting heavily. He tried not to, not to give her more fun. But the pain was too great to fight back.

Ginbaste sighed. “You tire me. I hope your worthless body will be set on the altar soon.”

Istorvir ignored her taunt, putting on his cloth. The matron mother knew his worth. There weren’t many fighters as skilled as him, even in their house.

Ginbaste left. He waited, so that he wouldn’t meet her again, licking his wounds in the darkness, and walked out the chapel.

His squad members were all there waiting for him. There could be only a few reasons.

Ristel came to him. “The weapon master is rallying us at the drill yard.”

And that’s not a reason he’d like to hear right now. Velgred was fully aware of his relationship with Caphelzsa. And since he couldn’t make life difficult for the house patron, he made life difficult for him. But he can’t blame Caphelzsa, can he? Istorvir grinned. The rivalry was prompted by the matron mother herself when she asked Caphelzsa to take Velgred’s place as the weapon master. He refused, with a simple and humiliating reason, he didn’t want to be bothered by such monotonous tasks. And now in Velgred’s eyes he did so little for the house, all he did was to lie on the bed, and he enjoyed prestige as high as his, which was… not untrue.

He nodded at them and led them to the drill yard.

Most of House Argin’s fighters were now sparring here. There were even many females. One of them pointed her sword at him, challenging him to a duel.

He ignored her and led his fighters to a corner. “Now pair yourselves together and began practice.”

“You dare to avoid me, male?” That female grabbed his shoulder and turned him. She was a savage, taller than him by a foot, with wide shoulders and thick torso and limbs.

“I cannot fight you right now.” He couldn’t even lift a sword. In fact even remaining standing became difficult for him.

She punched his face. The force threw him back until he hit the railing. He fell to the ground, beneath the feet of his fighters. They lowered their weapons, and remained utterly silent.

She strode to him. He struggled to grab the railing. She seized his collar and lifted him.

“Get away from him.” Llenirra shouted across the drill yard and ran toward them. Istorvir sighed with relief and was thrown to the ground.

“I’m sorry, priestess…”

“Get away.” Llenirra screamed, kneeling down beside him. “Are you alright?”

“No. I can use a…” He didn’t finish before the healing power poured into his body.

“Come with me. I need a talk with you.” She hurried to a nearby stalactite. Hangings with their house emblem dropped from it.

Istorvir followed her. But it was difficult to overlook the scheming gaze of Velgred that cast upon him. He forced himself to concentrate. Not right now. Right now he had a priestess offering him protection.

“Thank you, Llenirra.” He spoke up when Capehlzsa’s daughter stopped. He watched her grew and she saved his skin countless times. It was difficult not to grow affection for her. She was not yet coming of age, and was still a novice priestess. She would be sent into the academy… perhaps next year? He wondered what kind of days would be ahead of him when she’s gone.

She turned to him. Her countenance was altered by anger and Istorvir sensed something wrong immediately. He backed a step away from her warily.

She took in a deep breath and cooled down. “Did my father tell you where he went?”

He didn’t tell you? This thought flowed quickly through his mind. He didn’t know if he meant to hide his whereabouts from her, and whether it was indeed necessary to hide his whereabouts from her. Those answers didn’t matter, he would never betray Caphelzsa’s information, to his daughter or not.

“He left the house?” He feigned innocence.

“You are lying.” Llenirra suddenly loomed upon him, grabbing his collar and lifting him. Her expression became not just angry, but sinister. He shivered.

“No… He didn’t tell me…” He changed to another tactics.

“I will have your skin, male.” She lifted him higher, knocking his head on the stalactite.

And listen to what she calls him now. Istorvir thought sadly, and at the same time realized something for the first time. He watched her grew, from a little girl to a young female . Now not yet coming of age she was already taller and stronger than him. And he wasn’t any shorter and thinner than Caphelzsa. Did he realize that as well? He wondered.

“Your father wouldn’t be happy to see you have my skin.” He moaned in pain.

She slapped him and threw him on the stalactite. He fell to the ground, dragging the hanging along with him. He struggled in it awkwardly.

“Tell me now. Or I’ll have your heart. I need one before the great hunt. You know it.” She drew a dagger and cut his chest open.

“No.” He shut his eyes. He knew she was just bluffing, no matter how deep he felt that cut was.

She slapped him again, and left. He lay on the ground until emptiness periodically passed. He slowly regained his feet and walked back to his squad.

They had begun their practice and it went smoothly. He observed, until a slave came to him. “Master, the weapon master requires your presence.”

He sighed. He wondered how much beating he could take in a day. He mayhap broke his own record. “Carry on.” He ordered his fighters and made his way toward Velgred.

“Care to show me what you’re made of? Hadlas challenges you.” Velgred said coldly.

“Istorvir.” Caphelzsa flashed to him. Without the need to remain tense he almost fell on his bottom.

Upon seeing his rival Velgred lost his gracefulness immediately. He actually became less deadly-looking this way. “Istorvir is fighting Hadlas now.”

“He is wounded. I’m taking him away for healing.” Caphelzsa grabbed his hand and dragged him.

“For whose healing?” Velgred suddenly laughed maliciously. “Why don’t you ask who beats him? Your daughter exactly.”

Caphelzsa froze. His grip on him released and his hands dropped to his side.

“She was… very menacing when she did that. You will not have a high priestess bind to your will. The stronger she grows the further she’s apart from you.”

Caphelzsa put a hand on his dagger. But Velgred reacted immediately. He drew his swords.

Caphelzsa didn’t move for a while. His expression didn’t change, either. He just stuck there, like an ebony statue. He had to help him. Istorvir put a hand on his hand. He let loose the dagger and grabbed his hand again, leading him away.

“Was it really her?” Caphelzsa asked desperately. He didn’t need to hear the answer. If the answer was no, Istorvir would say it already.

“She was eager to know your whereabouts.” That’s all he could say to comfort him.

He froze, and then trembled, slowly turning his head away.

“She has asked me to take her to our society, or where I meet with commanders. The darkness is growing in her with more priestly teachings she receives. She hopes to find more about us to steady her heart, to secure the beliefs I give her. But I can’t. If I wrestled her away from the queen all we’ve achieved would turn into ashes. I have to… give up on her.”

He placed an arm around him, wordless.

“I should have known she would grow frustration, and anger and jealousy toward you. I should have warned you. I’m sorry.” Caphelzsa turned to him.

“You don’t have to apologize to me. Heart.” Istorvir replied gently. They had been through a lot together. Would there be a day he gave up on him? No. He thought not.

He smiled. “Come to my room. I think I still have a magic potion I purchased from a dwarf merchant months ago. And then I can have Jivvin serve you.”

Istorvir laughed. That was indeed within his right to do. Although nominally surely Jivvin belonged to the matron mother, she gifted him to her patron and made him solely for his use. It meant no one else, except the matron mother herself possibly, could ask his service, and he could make him serve anyone he liked. That’s the ultimate luxury they all longed for.

“Come.” Caphelzsa dragged him through the hallways leading to his quarter.

“How was the meeting? Did it go well?” Couldn’t keep up with him, he panted.

Caphelzsa slowed down. “Yes, it went well.” He smiled contently, and then became thoughtful. “We have something for you. All temple guards are demanded to take eight raw hearts or they are to be transformed into driders. We will persuade handmaidens to accept hearts not directly taken by them, and help them acquire enough ones. You shall supply.”

“I will. That’s not a problem.” Those poor bastards. Normally when a male was inclined to magic, he was inclined to arcane magic rather than priestly magic. But they, born as males, was inclined to priestly magic. It was not unheard that this kind of individuals advanced to high rank. But usually they were discarded and forced into the ranks of the temple guards at one point or another during their priestly learning, and became constantly suspected of treacherously serving another deity. One of their commanders, Ryltar, was such an unfortunate individual.

They arrived at the door of his quarter. Slaves inside it whispered in excitement. “He returned. Get that lamp.”

Istorvir sighed. These slaves, weak enough to tremble before a kobold, could never comprehend how sharp their master’s sense of hearing was. While other slaves were drilled to death they hid so comfortably in Caphelzsa’s quarter, having nothing else to do than decorating the rooms, especially the bed chamber. Caphelzsa would take care of the rest.

“How about the two fighters from House Abykur?” He asked.

Caphelzsa’s features darkened. “I put this forward. But Rusilnal didn’t comment about it. There are more urgent matters. They are not one of us after all…”

“I understand. But I would hate to do that.” What wrong had they done? Jarnozz was fierce in battle but kind in heart. Chakoth was obedient, following orders without hesitation. They simply did their true matron mother’s bidding. Did she give them a choice? And now, to murder them in the cover of the hunt, meant Matron Mother Faeryl was allowed to get away, while they were not.

Caphelzsa read his expressions and placed a hand on his arm. “I understand. I’ll put this forward again. There must be a way.”

“Thank…”

They heard footsteps and they waited. There came Matron Mother G’eltana, and her daughters and granddaughters. This sight terrorized all and normally he would tremble in fear. But not this time. This time he was safe.

“What is this male doing here?” Ginbaste was among them. She put her hand on the hilt of her whip.

“Silence, girl. Here’s no place for you to talk.” The matron mother hissed.

Ginbaste shot him an angry glare, promising future revenge. But he could enjoy victory now. He lowered his head and stepped back as the matron mother moved to Caphelzsa.

Caphelzsa became wary and aghast. But still he dedicated to play his part. Almost imperceptibly he made himself seemingly as attractive as possible. Too overly done Istorvir would say. He could sense and see that those females here were now all burned with jealousy and desire.

Matron Mother G’eltana placed an arm around his shoulders and kissed him. “Where have you been, Caphelzsa? I couldn’t find you this morning and I wasn’t happy about it. But I suppose I will spare you this time.”

“Thank you, matron mother.” Caphelzsa rested himself on her, his head on her sizeable breasts. Istorvir couldn’t bear to watch anymore. He lowered his head, as he was supposed to do. “I merely went on a tour of the city. You were busy.”

“How was it? Pleasant enough?” She held his waist and caressed his hips.

“Hmm… A beautiful trinket was too expensive and I couldn’t afford it…” Caphelzsa brushed away her hands. She laughed blissfully.

“Take a hundred gold pieces from the coffer…”

“Matron mother, he is using them to…”

“I did not ask for your opinion.” The matron mother screamed, and with her scream went punishment. Waerya choked with pain, and dropped to her knees when the power faded away.

“With the council I’m meeting many handmaidens and high priestesses, to discuss the affairs of the great hunt. Care to join me?”

“I’d rather not, G’eltana.” He addressed her by her name, to make it as if he was so wooed and went out of his mind. But in reality he made it the other way around. “I’ll be happy to join your meeting with weapon masters. But affairs with other priestesses, I understand not.”

“Indeed.” She brushed his hair. His hair was long and largely unrestrained, only a braid on his left side. “The meeting with weapon masters of the major houses and masters of the fighters’ academy is scheduled tomorrow. Rusilnal is required to present as well. I’m eager to hear what plans he’s been hatching.”

“You will not be disappointed, matron mother.” Caphelzsa’s smile did not falter at all.

“I’m sure I won’t.” The matron mother turned and departed, not before leaving a warning. “Be here tonight.”

“I will.” Caphelzsa whispered, as she was further away he let out a slight tremor.

Micarlin, the eldest daughter of the house, stayed behind. Caphelzsa was immediately agitated. His stance changed from completely submissive to dangerously defensive. But that didn’t stop her. She supported the back of his head and waist with her hands and kissed him eagerly. He whimpered painfully. Istorvir turned his head away until she let go of him and left.

“Come.” Caphelzsa turned the handle of the door. His voice was not joyful anymore. But he was largely calm. Istorvir followed him inside.

“Patron.” His slaves came, still shaking.

“It’s alright. They left.” Caphelzsa comforted them. He grabbed a cushion and placed it on one end of the couch. “Come, Istorvir. Take off your cloth and lie prone here. Jivvin shall please you.” He became happy again.

Then how could he refuse? Istorvir started to undo his buckles. Jivvin and Divtel came to help him. “He is wounded. I’ll have to avoid these areas.” Jivvin touched his skin. He shivered comfortably.

“Do your best.” Caphelzsa sat back on the opposite couch, taking a glass of wine from Lymenar.

He became a little embarrassed. But… oh the prospect indulgence made it so easy to throw it away. He lay prone on the couch and closed his eyes.


	3. Chapter Three

“Commander… Why have you come?” The squad was led by none other than Dinhrae. Rusilnal was so pleased to see him. He was handsome and noble, although a little bit shocked.

“I heard about what your matron mother planned to do to one of you and your brothers and I come here to see if I can change her mind.”

Dinhrae’s face twitched with emotions, and he dropped tears. “It’s not necessary. Heart. She will not listen and I can’t see you enter another unfavorable bargain with her. If I am defeated, I shall die on the altar.”

Rusilnal placed an arm around his shoulders. “Why would I give you up now?”

“Please… Don’t go. She’s mad, driven by greed and darkness.” Dinhrae trembled in his arm.

With so much he did for their society, wouldn’t he feel he entitled to his aid? Rusilnal now held him in his both arms and squeezed him. “I also could not bear any of your brothers suffer such fate. I know they make your life difficult but they are not all that sinister. Now, do you understand why I need to talk to your matron mother?”

He tilted his head and thought for a while. Rusilnal watched him and smiled. Surely he didn’t have to talk to his matron mother if he was the only one he wanted to save. He could simply help him hunt.

“I understand.” He quieted down. “Thank you for thinking for all of us. I… I do not wish for their deaths, commander.”

He smiled and caressed his face. “Now, escort me to your matron mother.”

He shifted his gaze to the nearby table. “Leave your weapons there and we will search you.”

He nodded. He drew his primary weapons, a sword and a scimitar, and secondary weapons, a crossbow and a score of daggers, and placed them on the table.

Dinhrae and three or four House Hlaund’s soldiers came to search him. Dinhrae was gentle, but two of the soldiers were rough. He bit his lip when his belly was pressed hard.

Finally it was done. And he was left feeling vulnerable. Now all that could protect him was his fame of usefulness. But it was not unheard of a matron mother acted strangely, without considering consequent pros and cons.

Dinhrae and his squad surrounded him and led him past the entrance between two stalagmites. They were tall and mighty.

The throne room was guarded by Rantrin, the weapon master of the house. The corner of his mouth rose with distain. “I knew you would come, to beg for the pathetic life of your follower. Leave him to us.”

Dinhrae was irritated, but dare not retaliate. He walked back, watching him. He gave him a comforting smile.

The chant inside the throne room waned not long after Rantrin went in. Then both leaves of the door moved open. He walked in.

Matron Mother Saslure now sat on her throne. To the throne were several goblins linked by chains around their necks. They screamed madly, trying to crawl away from the throne. She was surrounded by her daughters, standing. Kneeling beside her was Kedyn, her patron. Her long fingernails crawled on his skin occasionally.

A goblin’s scream became too awful. He was momentarily distracted. He glimpsed it and suddenly it turned into ashes. The matron mother waved her hand lazily.

“Now is it better?” She giggled.

He stared at her and could not reply. He had no concern over goblins but he had no liking for seeing them turned into ashes.

The matron mother sniffed. “Kneel.”

He knelt down, and lowered his gaze to the floor, feeling vulnerable again under priestesses’ gazes.

“I’m eager to hear your proposal, male. Aid me in the hunt and you shall have ceaseless fortune.”

“I ask nothing from you, matron mother. I merely wish you to reconsider sacrificing one of your sons on the altar. They are all strong fighters. It’s not possible that they are useless to you in the future. If you so desire a worthy heart to please the goddess, I can get you one, an elven one. Just you’re your game and its heart shall be yours.”

“That’s such a strange request.” The matron mother clicked the armrest of her throne with her long fingernails. “Ah. For Dinhrae, is it? It’s remarkable of him to please you. But I have promised the queen the heart of one of my sons.”

He froze, and then hastily said. “But surely a valuable elven heart could substitute it. And surely you could rediscuss it with her.”

“But why should I do that? Perhaps you should offer better. I myself can get elven hearts.” The matron mother played her patron with her long fingernails again. “Become my patron and I can consider your word. The price your house asked last time was insanely high. But I was about to pay. A pity the council decided to intervene.”

Kedyn trembled fiercely beside her feet. It almost meant his death. In this scenario normally the patron would provoke a duel. But he was famed, and he could not hope to best him. Rusilnal stared at the floor, trying not to be overwhelmed by emotions.

“Are you ready to take me as your patron, Matron Mother Saslure?” He had enough. He raised his head and looked directly into her eyes. “To attract such attention with a minor house like yours. I could fend off your first few attackers, but not for infinite. I would be spared when the house fall, so that I could be made into the successful attacker’s patron. You were not the only matron mother who prepared the price for my house. And your heart would lie upon her altar.”

The snake-headed whip lashed upon his face and chest. The matron mother screamed in fury and hatred. “Get out. I have nothing to talk with you. There will be a day you shall choke on your own arrogance and I shall enjoy seeing it. A male should never have had such influence like yours. This is all wrong.”

He’s not about to leave. “I shall aid your house against all attackers, as long as your sons live, to the end of their days. You could not get better. Consider it a gift to them. They have… pleased me in your word and I shall see their lives glorious.”

Stunned, Matron Mother Saslure was out of word for a long moment. Then she leaned back, muttering. “Really? You will do that…? Perhaps I should reconsider their worth. Very well. I will not sacrifice any of them. And you will uphold your word.”

“Oh… And…” He watched Kedyn. He dropped his head so low, trembling and probably weeping in sorrow. A woeful sight indeed. “When you are to change a patron, let him return to the ranks of your soldiers, or… give him to me.”

“Take him now. I need an immediate change as I am so sick of him. And my house has no need of a useless worm like him.” She waved a hand casually. “He no longer belongs to my house. Take him to your society and nurse him. I’m dying to see if you can make him useful.”

Kedyn raised his head. He was utterly shocked and couldn’t make a move. Rusilnal reached out a hand to him. “Come.”

He was still scared, scared that it was just another trick played by the matron mother, scared that a flick of her finger would turn all of his hope into ashes, turn him into ashes. But still he managed to stand, and slowly made his way to him. A sniff of a priestess frightened him further. He quickened his steps and reached out his hand to him.

Their hands connected. Rusilnal quickly stood up and held him in arms, covering his body with his. “That’s a fair trade, matron mother. Thank you. I will keep my word.”

The matron mother nodded. And the leaves of the door opened again. With Kedyn in his arms he walked out of the throne room.

Once they were outside and the door shut Kedyn gasped lightly. He patted him and let loose of him. He looked back, panting.

“Come.” Rusilnal gestured him to follow.

He looked back again, still in disbelief. In fact, before leaving the house Rusilnal couldn’t be completely certain, either. But he would not give the matron mother a chance for a second thought. He grabbed Kedyn’s wrist and dragged him toward the house entrance.

On the bridge they met Sharyrd. “Why do you intervene, Rusilnal? And offer protection for my house because of me and my brothers? Do you think we should appreciate it?” In exasperation he put a hand on the hilt of his sword.

Rusilnal watched him. He was powerful and might want to try. But he’s no match for him. “Your pride is bright. It serves you well when you know when to show it. But to me it holds little value. I care for those who are bent by humiliation. You should have known it if you heard my name.”

“Yes. And wondered why you were taking him.” He turned away and left.

Kedyn became distressed. Rusilnal wrapped an arm around him. “He’s yours?”

“Yes. He and Dinhrae.”

“But Dinhrae said…”

“The matron mother gives him the impression that he was sired by the previous patron, who’s gone now. But he’s mine.” He trembled in sorrow, and turned his head away, weeping.

“He will know it, and believe it. I promise.” He looked to the two mighty stalagmites. “Come on. We are almost there.”

They passed them. Kedyn dropped to his knees. Rusilnal placed his hands on his shoulders

He turned his head and watched him. “I have never set foot outside the house since I was made into the patron, until now.”

“I’m sorry to take you in such a forceful manner. I hope you will like the life that awaits you.” He looked across the city. Their dwelling shimmered in the darkness. The flickers always contained a coded message. Now it’s signaling that there’s no commanders present in the dwelling, to request their adherents to come and aid in defense if possible. He had been away for too long.

“What kind of life?” He grabbed his hands and stood up. His voice became gentle and soft.

“You are houseless now, but not without protection. The society is a haven. But still, you have to perform tasks for us.” Rusilnal hissed with disdain. “I’m not a matron mother. Whoever doesn’t do her bidding is the worst kind in her eyes. But you have to do what I say, what other commanders say. We will not ask unreasonably.”

“I understand.” He paused for a while. “Commander.”

The corner of his mouth raised a little. “Come. Let us run.”

In an hour they arrived at their dwelling. It’s a tower built next to and partly on a stalagmite, with outer platforms and spiral stairs being defensive structures and linking levels together.

The gate was now watched by Vhuszar. He didn’t greet him but instead ran in and shouted in a high-pitched tone. And the next second they flooded over the bridge.

“You’ve been away for long. Sabrar haven’t returned, either.” Ilphrin shouted. He was a boy, not yet trained in the academy. He’s going to owe Bhintel a lot when he’s in. He’s too innocent to survive outside their dwelling.

“I’m sending him on a scout mission. Get inside.” Rusilnal pushed him and Zekimar, in contrast a fully-fledged fighter.

“Who’s this one?” Dipral stood under the doorway. He folded his arms and intentionally showed his comparative lack of interest in him.

He smiled and patted his shoulder. He was so glad he’s here. He was a veteran of House Kilath. He was utterly occupied, must have come back because of the signal.

“Kedyn. He was House Hlaund’s patron.” They walked into the tower. The dim light and refreshing fragrance made him comfortable.

“So I suppose he’s fully with us now.”

“Yes. Settle him for me.” He turned back and smiled at Kedyn.

“Ah. But he can’t have his own room anymore. Will that be too hard?” Dipral smiled wryly.

He was about to say something for him but Kedyn replied quickly. “No.”

“Good. I’ll try to arrange a bed, maybe a bunk bed with Lymeral.” He taunted the young fighter.

“What? Why me?” Lymeral protested.

“He could be underneath you, if you prefer.” He waved a hand casually.

“What? Do we have so little space?” Rusilnal was so shocked.

Dipral chuckled. “You should start to think about acquiring a larger property for us. Come.” He gestured Kedyn to follow.

Kedyn bowed at him before leaving. He nodded, but was dumb out of shock.

He’d miss this place. It was the first home of their society. It was quite empty at first. But now, he raised his head and looked. Almost every level there were males leaning forward on the railings and waving at him happily. And indeed he couldn’t recall a room that was not in use.

He shook his head. That had to wait until the great hunt ended.

He climbed the spiral stairs. “Are you going to rest in the sitting room?” Szorrith followed him too closely and Rusilnal accidently kicked him twice with his heels. But he didn’t mind. He didn’t even lower his head to look or step back.

Rusilnal smiled. “No.”

“But I have an important matter to report to you.” He shouted hastily.

“No. You don’t.” He’s on the first level now. He turned back to him and smiled. “I’ll talk to you later.”

They knew where he’s going and gradually they left. Rusilnal continued his way to the sixth level.

Solaukin’s room was the farthest one from the stairs, giving him more solitude. Outside the door he could already feel his eagerness. Slowly he reached out a hand to the door.

He knocked it. He wasn’t about to wait for a response before going in but Solaukin shouted already. “Come in.”

He pushed open the door and went in.

Valyln was with him. He was feeding him mashed potatoes. He jumped out of the chair and bowed lowly. “Master.”

Rusilnal couldn’t help but smile. Valyln was his newest acquired slave, and was still largely … untrained. He was a born slave, knew nearly nothing of fighting so thus far he was only tasked with household matters. But he planned to sell him in the future, when he was ready.

“Thank you. I’m taking over, if you will excuse us.” He placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered gently. “Take a rest, do whatever you like, and ask a lesson from Kelhrys when he returns.”

“Don’t you like to give him one sometime, son?” Solaukin raised his head and watched them.

He was quite surprised, and happily amazed. It’s unusual that Solaukin suggested such. He seldom, almost never, offered him advice. The past still troubled him, making him reckon himself unwise. It must be because Valyln’s company was highly enjoyed by him.

“Sure. I will, sometime.” He bowed his head to Valyln to thank him and smiled. “Now, if you will excuse us.”

He was hesitant, worrying it was his trick. Slowly he backed away from them, until he left the room.

He sat down at the opposite side of the low table. Solaukin suddenly lunged forward at him and touched his face with his arms, the points where his hands and parts of his forearms were cut off. He grasped his right arm, and pressed it firmly on his face.

“Have you been well, father?” He whispered softly, and smiled. “It seems you enjoy Valyln’s company.”

“Does it matter to him? I have murdered countless slaves like him in cold blood. And many were purely for my own amusement.” He bit his lip bitterly.

“You changed.” He reached out a hand, and caressed his face when he closed his eyes.

“I… I did.” He smiled contently, and opened his eyes. “He’s a pleasant fellow. But… I shouldn’t occupy him too much. He has potential. No doubt you can sell him in the future.”

“That’s what I thought.” Rusilnal took the plate of mashed potatoes, leaned back and enjoyed it. “I should take you out for a walk. The rothe herd just grew and they made quite a sight. Or, I was told a carven east to the city recently shone as if all its stones were crystals. I’d like to take a look.”

“I’ll see the herd. It’s also remarkable to look across the city from the plateau north to the herd farm.”

“Sure.” They heard shouts from the largest platform. It was roughly higher than the third level and served as their primary drill yard. Solaukin looked out, interested.

“Come.” Rusilnal stood up, hugged his waist and took him to the balcony.

Now there was no formal training session, just a friendly contest, or, a demonstration of prowess between Dipral and Sszral, another war leader, from House Teluae. The crowd flocked around them, shouting and wagering. Dipral dual wielded two swords. Sszral used a great sword. They circled and observed each other, and raised their weapons.

Kedyn was among the spectators. He watched Dipral with admiration. Rusilnal was so glad that he found his place so quickly. But he couldn’t find Valyln in the crowd. Hmm…

“Care to make a wager? If you lose, take me to both sites.” Solaukin turned to him.

“I’ll take you to both. There’s no need to make a wager.” Out of surprise, Rusilnal almost shouted.

Dipral raised a battle cry and leapt forward. Sszral lowered his stance and put his left hand on the ricasso of the great sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later when I read the scene in House Hlaund I realized that Rusilnal forgot to retrieve his weapons from the entrance guards. But to add such paragraphs or even just a descriptive sentence would inevitably disrupt his emotional flow so I decided not to do it. Dinhrae could return them to him later anyway!


	4. Chapter Four

Narissorin arrived, and he found them immediately. “Oh. My friends. My hearts.” His tone was exaggerated, and greasy, and thus funny. He opened his arms to embrace them.

Quevdor returned his embrace reluctantly. Zszor and Gelrar were more amicable. Then it’s his turn. Kelhrys shook his head, smiling. They embraced each other. He couldn’t help but squeeze him. They hadn’t met for long. And the newest elevated commander of the society had always been approachable to everyone. Rusilnal couldn’t make a better choice.

“So I see you all successfully removed yourselves from your mistresses’ reach.” Narissorin giggled. “Or, masters’” He winked at Gelrar.

“Indeed. The matron mother became so crazy. She insisted on seeing our mimic battles again and again. But Xarann managed to smuggle us out.” Zszor sighed. “The matron mother will not notice two soldiers are missing when the weapon master tells her that all are there anyway. But he himself couldn’t attend the commanders’ meeting this morning.”

“He couldn’t, either? Ah. So Rusilnal must have gone berserker in the tavern and is now throwing things across the hall.” Narissorin laughed.

“He wouldn’t.” Kelhrys laughed a little, helplessly.

“Then why hasn’t Sabrar arrived yet?” Narissorin demanded.

“I don’t know. But it’s still ahead of the meeting time.” He folded his arms.

“Indeed. How about you?” He turned to Gelrar.

“They are busy counting the stock. It’s not good. We don’t have many ogres and orcs. We have many goblins and kobolds but they make poor bulwarks. We have many humans. But there’s no way will they fight for us unless they are affected by spells. But whether they and priestesses are to prepare such spells is not ours to decide.”

“Preferring sending us, eh?” Narissorin kicked the stone beneath his feet.

Kelhrys lowered his gaze in sadness. All they cared about was whether they were guarded well when unleashing destructive energies or summoning demonic creatures. But that would change, one day. He had high hope in Rusilnal. The day he and Sabrar were hunted across the caverns was still vivid in his collection of memories. As the remaining soldiers of House T’sach escaped into the wild noble houses set out the hunt. With Sanan’s help Rusilnal persuaded his merchant clan to join the hunt, with a different goal, to increase their stock, in contrast to to kill for training and amusement. He further helped them capture them, and they became the sole survivors. Later he acquired them with a large sum of gold.

His companions whispered greetings. He raised his head. Sabrar was among them now. He grinned and nodded at him. He replied it with a bow. They were longtime friends and back in House T’sach they were of the same rank, the war leaders. But he was now one of the commanders, his superiors he swore to fight to death for.

“So we are all here now.” Sabrar’s fingers flew through the hilts of a score of his daggers playfully. “We are to scout the enemy so that Rusilnal can run around in the city, boasting how many hearts he can take for this matron mother and how many princes he can seize for that.”

He couldn’t help but laugh with the others. But that was pretty unfair to Rusilnal. He was certain that he preferred scouting weak elves and humans to talking to tyrannical matron mothers, as they all did.

“So far our intelligence suggests the same, that there’s only one prince.” Zszor whistled.

“And I’m sure he’s hatching a plan for him.” Sabrar winked.

“Eh… I hope not. I’m not scared but that’s too dangerous. How was the meeting?” Narissorin said.

“Xarann wasn’t there. This I suppose you knew already.” He nodded at Quevdor and Zszor. “Ryltar was driven crazy by handmaidens and Caphelzsa was in terrible mood. The rest were fine.”

“Was Zyn there? I heard that he was supposed to. Did he join your discussion? What did he say about slaves?” Narissorin had little idea about when to stop. His tongue was as nimble as his body. He was the most agile one among the six of them, or perhaps the whole society. And he possessed an unusual ability to walk through shadows.

Sabrar frowned. Zyn wasn’t someone he’d like to hear about. It was he who captured them. Although he was collaborating with Rusilnal and meant them no harm, being trapped within his magic wasn’t fun.

“He shooed Sanan away.” He shook his head. “That’s enough talk. We should head out. Remember. If we are discovered and reveal the city’s plan to the elves and humans not just us but Rusilnal will be put to death. He entrusts us with this. Do not fail.”

They lowered their heads and whispered prayers to an unknown god, if such one did exist. Kelhrys took out the pendant, his insignia of the society. Its shape was a wracked heart and it was imbued with a drop of blood, from his heart.

He put it back underneath his cloth. His companions were making their way toward the gate. He followed them.

Late in the night, they arrived at the surface world. Human settlements were very visible in the darkness. Their hearth fires lit the sky. A town was very close to them. Narissorin pointed at it, asking. Sabrar nodded. They crept toward it.

The ground they were treading on was an obvious slope. He noted and memorized it.

All of a sudden he felt unknown presences. He brought himself down and lay prone on the ground. The soil and leaves felt very different. The others all stopped. Gelrar leaned back against a reclining tree just next to him.

A group of sun elves came into their sight, on the lower ground. They were armed, led by a female. With a bow in hand, she looked around. Kelhrys closed his eyes when she looked toward his direction. Their eyes flickered red in darkness.

A moment later they left. Kelhrys picked himself up. Sabrar pointed at them. They followed their tracks.

Gradually they heard singing. It was a melody that could only be made by elves. The group of sun elves led them to a human village. There were many wood elves resting there, and singing. Kelhrys sat on a thick tree root and leaned back against the tree. Narissorin went away, circling the village. Sabrar gestured them to stay where they were.

“Get back to the city.” The elf captain walked into the light of the campfire. She was furious.

“There are no drow. Even if there are, I’m not afraid.” A man raised a flagon of beer high. “To your health.”

He exchanged a wary look with Sabrar. The sun elves knew their plan, or at least, guessed they had a plan.

The elf captain grabbed the arm of an elven maiden and dragged her. She cried in pain.

“Let her go.” A male wood elf protested, but he still sat on the ground. “You come because you want to use this opportunity to crush the drow army. That’s fine. We are still grateful. But please leave us alone.”

“It’s not like that. We had never thought about the ones who went below before the road was closed and we were all trapped here. But now yes, we can crush them. Do not lose heart because your land is taken.”

“Taken by the empire. And now it is the same empire that traps us here. If you really are taking us to your land you will fight the empire to make way.”

“It is these humans who should fight the empire.”

“See? You’d rather stick here and wait for the ones who went below.”

The elf captain drew in a deep breath. “Yes. And we are well prepared. Two generals, a princess and a prince had just arrived with forces through the portal opened by the queen and king themselves. We will crush them, with your help or not. And if you’d rather stay in defenseless areas and get slaughtered, that’s fine with me.”

Now Rusilnal has another prince to plan for. Kelhrys closed his eyes. Worry and fear outgrew any other.

The elf captain shouted command, leading her troops out of the village.

They waited and a moment later Narissorin returned. “There’s nothing worth noting here. Let us continue our way to the town.”

Sabrar nodded. And again they crept toward the town.

The town was stockaded, with two gatehouses, one at each side, leading to the road. Gelrar pointed at a few wood elves for them.

“Still they make poor fighting forces. We alone can take them all.” Sabrar chuckled with disdain.

“And poor preys. I wonder if there’s a matron mother interested in taking them.” Narissorin shook his head and sighed. “Come. We shall scout the city and the fortress.”

Out of disappointment Kelhrys glimpsed it more than a few times before backing away from their hiding, an abandoned well.

Under cover of the darkness they made their way toward the city. Here woods were thin and there were many human traces, chopped woods, camp fires, hare carcasses, and hunting traps.

They sensed strange presences again. In the next second their eyes met those of the others, flickering red eyes. Narissorin sneaked away. The others dared not to do the same. Carefully and secretly Kelhrys shifted his stance. The rule that restrained them from murdering each other did not apply outside the city.

In the present a fight was not expected. Matron mothers would feed them to the spiders were they discovered by the elves and humans.

But if one side was annihilated, the other side could frame them and get away…

The other group split up and circled them. They were House Ichuil’s soldiers, led by its weapon master, Danlyn. In their society he was renowned for excessive cruelty and mercilessness.

“What are your soldiers doing, Danlyn Ichuil?” Sabrar folded his arms and grinned.

“Just being precautious, slave. Look how many I have. There may be more out of your sight.”

Slave was not a correct way to address Sabrar. Rusilnal sold his slaves to matron mothers on condition that they would lift them to another rank. Sometimes when the slave was able to perform a certain task that none other in her house could the condition could be more stringent to the matron mother. She had to render him houseless after she lifted him. In this way rather than being a soldier of a house thereafter, he could be fully with the society again. He and Sabrar were the few that were made to perform such tasks.

“I count seventeen. You are right. We will not attack you. Can we go now?” Sabrar smiled.

“Wise. Yes, you can.” Danlyn gestured his soldiers.

They raised their crossbows and fired at them. Kelhrys tumbled to the ground. Two fighters rushed at him. He blocked their attacks with his hand-and-a-half sword. They were very skilled. He kept himself in defensive stance.

There was a wizard among them. He was chanting and a glow cracked the air before him. Zszor threw a dagger at him. Its path was altered by the magic shield around him but it still managed to knock him over. A fighter of House Ichuil fired another shot at Zszor. It buried into his shoulder and he fell back to the ground.

Sabrar burst out into a war cry. Kelhrys slashed his sword into the skull of one of his opponents. Another sword attack came toward his neck. He parried it. The clash was a success for him. He brushed his opponent’s weapon away and sent his blade into his belly.

Someone had to get to Zszor. Although Gelrar halted his attackers, the bolt was poisonous and had to be removed. He threw a dagger at a fighter, knocking the crossbow off his hands.

He reached Zszor. Gelrar was struggling with three fighters but he managed. In the distance Narissorin appeared from shadows, cutting open a fighter’s neck with his dagger.

He knelt down beside Zszor. The poison paralyzed him. He trembled as he made attempts to move. He checked his wound. The bolt was barbed.

“Do it. Quickly.” He gasped and panted.

He grabbed the bolt and pulled it out. He screamed. Kelhrys supported himself with his sword. A flail attack came. He parried it and pulled the flail away from his assailant. Gelrar hurled himself on him and pierced his neck with a stiletto.

“Help the commander.” He shouted at him.

Sabrar staggered back, barely catching another Danlyn’s swing of sword. Another two fighters of House Ichuil lunged at him. Narissorin appeared behind one of them, grabbing his arm and throwing him away. Sabrar evaded another attack. A bolt shot into Narissorin’s back. He stiffened up, and shook, trying to remain standing.

Kelhrys joined their fight. He leapt high and swung his sword down at Danlyn. He parried it. But the force managed to knock him back. A lightening shot at him. He spun around and dodged to a side. Quevdor stood up, turning his attention to the wizard. A lifeless body was beneath his feet.

Zszor sat up, picking up his scimitar. Gelrar blocked another attack for him. Narissorin pulled out the bolt in his back and threw it at Danlyn. He knocked it away with his sword. Kelhrys grasped his sword with his both hands and hurled himself on him. In the ensued fierce struggle he was wounded in his left upper arm and chest, but he managed to unbalance him. Sabrar took the opportunity and decapitated him. Narissorin grabbed another fighter from behind and sent his dagger into his back.

Disheartened, the soldiers of House Ichuil began to flee. Quevdor intercepted one of them and cut him down with his sword. Narissorin drew his crossbow and shot down another.

Kelhrys charged at one near him. He did not turn and run but hesitated and was stuck at the spot. He knocked him over, grasping his sword upside down for a finishing blow.

Something in front of his chest caught his eyes. Then he recognized it. It’s their society’s insignia, flickering in the darkness. He dropped his sword and staggered back.

He sat up. “Kelhrys?”

He shook his head and waved his hand. He remembered him. Rhylfein. He had met him several times in the society.

“What’s going on here?” Sabrar came to them. His gaze shifted to Rhylfein. “You… traitor.”

“I’m sorry, commander. But if I disobeyed him, he would kill me.” He shook his head and wept.

“Not if we won. You could have just joined us during the fight.” Sabrar shouted in fury.

Rhylfein looked away. “You are all… more powerful than I thought…” 

The others came to them. Narissorin sheathed his dagger. His countenance was sad, without any trace of the joy of victory. Quevdor looked into distance.

“So you chose your life over our better chance of survival. We will kill you for this betrayal. We have to kill you anyway. Your house attacked us first. But if any of you are left alive we will all be put to death.”

“I know. That was also why I chose to fight you.” Rhylfein lowered his eyes.

“Then you know what is coming.” Sabrar gritted his teeth. “Close your eyes. It will be quick.”

He closed his eyes. Sabrar drew a dagger and knelt down beside him.

“Sabrar, no.” Kelhrys said. “Take him to Rusilnal. See what he can do.”

Rhylfein opened his eyes and widened them in shock. Shame washed over him. “No… Please… Don’t take me to him…”

“What can he do? The rule is clear. He will just get himself placed on the altar.”

“Maybe there is something he can do. You never know what plans he’s hatching, do you?”

“Even if he does the way will certainly cost him a lot. Is this coward worth it? He not just wished for our deaths but his.” Gelrar uttered.

“Let him decide.” He insisted.

“He’d risk everything to…” Sabrar grumbled.

“Is there a time he does not risk everything? But so far he hasn’t lost a gamble.”

“No… Please… And don’t tell him about it. We are all killed by the elves.”

Sabrar sighed and looked to Narissorin.

“Take him. Quickly. The elves are coming.” Narissorin looked around, and made his way toward a tunnel to the underdark.

Kelhrys went to grab his arm and dragged him. At the same time Quevdor bound his hands behind him with a cord, under the cover of his cloak.

He begged them to kill him all along the way. But he didn’t give them trouble when they entered the city. And an hour later they returned to their dwelling.

“Ah. Our heroes returned. Commanders.” Dipral bowed his head. And when he raised his head his face twitched upon noticing the restraint on Rhylfein. “What’s going…”

“Just tell us where Rusilnal is.” Narissorin put in before Sabrar could explode.

“He’s in the sitting room on the second level, with Krondorl.”

“I’m taking Zszor to the infirmary. I bid you all farewell. It’s been great to be with you.” Gelrar bowed and parted ways with them, with Zszor following him.

Rhylfein quieted down. He bit his lip so forcefully that it dripped blood.

The sitting room on the second level was a largely open area. Out of the question it was now packed with probably almost everyone in the dwelling. Many of them attached themselves to the couch Rusilnal sat on. On the opposite couch sat Krondorl. His surroundings were comparatively less occupied.

Rusilnal turned to them. There’s something wrong in his countenance. He was sad. He gestured them to wait.

Now he noticed that the one who stood near the low table was Istorvir. On the low table was a coffer. In it were five pouches. Usually a pouch contained twenty pieces. That’s a large sum of gold.

Rusilnal shook his head, focusing his attention. He took a pouch and tossed it across the low table. “Take it for your trouble.”

“Rusilnal, I don’t need reward.” Krondorl’s words were serious, but his tone and expression were not.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. And besides, I don’t want to get murdered.” Krondorl winked at Istorvir.

Rusilnal chuckled. Istorvir turned his face away, hiding the smile that gradually appeared in his countenance.

Rusilnal stood up, and hugged Istorvir. “Thank you. And… send my regards to him, if you can.”

Istorvir bowed and turned to leave. When he walked past them he was a little surprised to see Sabrar and Narissorin. He bowed down his head again and left.

Rusilnal turned to them. At first he was confused. Then he was shocked. “What happened? Where are Zszor and Gelrar? Why do you hold Rhylfein captive?”

“They are fine. We clashed with Danlyn’s scouting party, slayed them all but him. He… fought against us till the end.” Narissorin looked at the floor, whispering almost flatly.

Rusilnal was stunned for a long moment. Then he lowered his head, trembled and almost wept. His face twisted with pain.

“I’m sorry, commander…” Rhylfein struggled. Kelhrys let loose of him but Quevdor didn’t.

“Just kill him and be done with it.” Sabrar urged.

“No. I can’t.” Rusilnal shook his head immediately. “I’ll find a way for him.”

“You are to risk your own life to save him? He knew you would be put to death if we were all slaughtered. He wants you dead.”

“There’s a huge difference between he wants me dead and he wants to live. Do not be confused.” Rusilnal raised his head and rebuked him.

Sabrar sighed and waved his hands, surrendering. Kelhrys looked around the room and pondered.

Rhylfein spoke again. “Heart. I…”

“You call him that again I’ll…” Narissorin stopped as Rusilnal waved a hand.

He walked to Rhylfein. Quevdor set him loose. He lowered his head and trembled. “I’m sorry. I am ashamed…”

Rusilnal sighed. “I thought Danlyn would at least change a little after our last encounter. These years must have been hard for you.”

Rhylfein raised his head to watch him, still trembling, and mustered his courage. “Heart…”

Rusilnal smiled a little, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I have to imprison you. Do you understand? I can’t risk you being seen or doing something silly before I find recourse.”

“Yes, I understand.” He whispered.

Rusilnal nodded, and beckoned to Alrogh and Tsabrini'th. “Lock him in the storage room. Treat him well.”

The sitting room became very quiet after they left. Kelhrys shifted his pose in eagerness.

Rusilnal looked to the balcony. “I… I need to be alone. If you all will excuse me… Please.”

Sabrar sighed and nodded. Krondorl stood up, shooing them away. Hastily Rusilnal made his way to the balcony.

He was deeply hurt. Kelhrys almost began to wonder if he did the right thing. He wanted to chase after him, to hold him in his arms and share his strength with him. But he couldn’t. He wanted to be alone and he should respect his will.

“Kelhrys?” A weak, shivering voice sounded near him. Kelhrys turned to search for it. It was Valyln, Rusilnal’s newest slave. “Rusilnal wants me to ask a lesson from you.”

That’s obviously an outdated order done before he knew he was cut all over his body by the weapon master of a ranked house. In fact, he probably still didn’t know it. Kelhrys sighed. He couldn’t blame him. He was standing before him anyway.

And certainly he would do whatever he asked, even if in the present it seemed a little bit unreasonable. He grinned.

“Sure. Come.” He made his way toward the primary drill yard. Valyln followed him, nervously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this chapter I completely forgot that both elves and drow possessed darkvision. =(  
> I decided to leave it this way, as to incorporate it means to rewrite a not small part of the chapter and would not increase the value of the story considerably. Hopefully it's still worth a read. =)


End file.
